Meet Camille Duret, the French femme fatale of the pop scene, who manifests the charm of Parisian streets and the sunlit magic of the French Rivier into her songs. She's not just another 'joie de vivre' gal, folks, her tunes will make you feel like dancing on the cobblestones with a warm croissant in hand!

Camille was made in France, quite literally, and her music is neither too rich, nor too thin, rather, much like the perfect crème brûlée. Her infectious pop anthems, dripping with sweet melodic lines, makes you question if sugar may run in her veins. She makes you believe that you're sip-sip-sipping champagne on the Seine, no matter where you are.

Surely, you've bopped your head, maybe even twirled a bit, to her banger “Never Too Late”. A cocktail of happy heartbeats, tasty hooks and irresistible refrains, laced with a sing-along chorus, it's classic Camille at her best. This melodious masterpiece is like a delightful dance with a macaron - sweet, colourful and leaves you wanting more.

So, let's raise our glasses to Camille Duret, the Parisian pop princess who consistently proves that pop can be served well done, medium rare or, occasionally, à la mode. Trust us, once you've had a bite of Camille’s music flambé, there's no going back – Bon Appétit!

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Hailing straight from the heart of Harlem, the notorious quintet, Brick Lords, has been serving up a potent cocktail of old school rap since their genesis.

An assemblage teeming with character, within this unique ensemble, we find Biggie Bricks (real name, Jamal Thompson), the de-facto leader and lyricist; Lil' Grout (born Angel Martinez), the charismatic hype man; Bricksy Ross (truly known as Desmond Jones), the mysterious trap-lord; Mortar Mike (Mike Johnson in the real world), the laid-back beat master, and Cinder "the Block" Parker (dubbed Clara Parker at birth), the feisty and soulful female vocalist who adds a unique twist to the group's sound.

The Brick Lords was born out of a shared love for rhythm, rhymes, and the raw, gritty atmosphere of their native Harlem streets, baptizing themselves Brick Lords because, well, they were originally just some kids slamming beats and rhymes on brick walls. And just as bricks fit one on top of the other, building something substantial, so too did the Brick Lords build something substantial out of their close-knit group dynamic.

Their music, a delightful blend of old school rap with a hint of modern-day flair, is lauded for its authenticity and palpable energy, resonating with audiences worldwide. Notably, their signature song "What's Going On (Clean)" quickly escalated to become an anthem for their generation, showcasing their genuine artistry while divulging the realities of life in Harlem.

Amidst punchy beats, witty lyricism, and a touch of brick-and-mortar realness, the story of the Brick Lords is as engaging as their music. Resolute in their ambitious deliverance of old school rap, these urban poets have cemented themselves into the solid foundation of Harlem's music scene, and dare we say it, they're brickin' amazing!

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Born in 1996 in Antwerp, Belgium, Dennise began her creative career not as a singer, but as a voice-over artist. With a warm, expressive tone and remarkable control, she became a sought-after voice in commercials, audiobooks, and animated films across Europe. For years, her voice was instantly recognizable, even if her face stayed out of the spotlight.

Music had always been quietly present in her life. Between recording sessions, she would write melodies and lyrics, experimenting with harmonies and vocal textures in her small home studio. Her path into music took a decisive turn when Filodyo producer Hakan E. heard one of her demos and invited her to record an original track.

Since that moment, Dennise has worked exclusively with Filodyo, creating songs that combine her precise vocal technique with a modern pop sensibility shaped by European dance rhythms. Guided by Hakan E.’s production, her tracks carry both the polish of a seasoned professional and the intimacy of a storyteller.

Outside the studio, Dennise is an avid cyclist and urban wanderer, often finding lyrical inspiration on her rides through city streets and coastal paths. For her, music is simply another way to tell a story — but now, her voice takes center stage.

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Lily Green is a vibrant nu-disco artist with a deep love for cars and the open road.

Hailing from Los Angeles, Lily grew up with the sounds of synth beats and funky basslines, which fueled her passion for creating danceable, feel-good music.

Her fascination with cars started in childhood, spending weekends at car shows with her dad and dreaming of road trips across the country. This love for automobiles often finds its way into her music, with themes of freedom, speed, and adventure.

Known for her infectious energy and groovy tunes, Lily Green’s tracks are the perfect soundtrack for cruising down the highway with the windows down.

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Bruno Galvez was born to a working-class Spanish family in Valencia, where the scent of orange blossoms mixed with the sound of distant flamenco was part of everyday life. Raised in a modest apartment above a small tapas bar, Bruno’s earliest memories include the strum of his grandfather’s old guitar and the rhythm of heels tapping against the tiled floor. Music wasn't just tradition — it was identity.

To support himself through school, Bruno played guitar on the streets and metro stations of Madrid, his case open for coins, his eyes always scanning for inspiration. These years shaped both his sound and his soul. The rawness of performing for strangers taught him to listen deeply to people’s silence — and to fill it with something honest. His fingers spoke when words failed, and soon his name became familiar in the underground corners of the city.

He studied Anthropology at the Universidad Autónoma de Madrid, drawn to human stories, rituals, and rhythms — the same themes that echo in his music. By night he was a student of culture; by day, a transmitter of it, blending traditional flamenco with the urgency of the modern world. His academic lens gave new depth to his compositions, adding layers that resonated beyond melody.

Today, Bruno Galvez is no longer just a street performer. He’s a storyteller, a cultural bridge, and a reminder that music — especially flamenco — is not meant to be caged. It is meant to move, to cry, to celebrate, and most importantly, to survive.

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“If it doesn’t ask questions, it’s not music.”

LYA (pronounced “Lie-uh”) is a genre-defying artist from Berlin whose roots stretch from conservatory string quartets to the depths of fog-drenched warehouse raves. A classically trained violinist who once performed Vivaldi at age nine, she left formal music behind in her early 20s to pursue something more fractured, more real. What emerged was a sound as delicate as it is defiant—where harpsichords coexist with 2-step beats, and questions matter more than answers.

Her music exists in a liminal zone: somewhere between dance and disassociation, pop and poetry, cathedral and club. LYA often weaves spoken-word passages into her songs, transforming internal monologues into melodic mantras. Vocals—sometimes her own, sometimes spliced and AI-shifted—glide over textured layers of cello, muted synths, and ambient distortion. Think: if Imogen Heap grew up listening to Burial and wrote haikus in code.

LYA’s debut EP “Syntax of Sleep” was a quiet cult success among insomniac circles on Bandcamp, praised for its “introspective maximalism.” Her live sets, often accompanied by generative visuals and interactive lighting that reacts to audience movement, blur the line between concert and hallucination. She isn’t afraid of silence, nor of noise. Both, to her, are forms of rhythm.

LYA doesn’t write songs to explain. She writes them to wonder. “What’s It Made Of?”—her latest single via notfm—isn’t just a title. It’s a dare. A whisper in the hallway between thoughts. A reminder that meaning isn’t always the point.

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Soulful indie magic and panache from the heart of France, Liora Senvelle has more to her than what meets the eyes and hits the ears. You may not have heard of her until now, but this French enchantress wants to change that—the independent music world's ultimate contradiction, Senvelle is both peculiarly familiar and enthrallingly foreign.

Hailing from the romantic city of Paris, Liora interprets music like a Monet painting—dabbling melodies and harmonies amidst her sonic tapestry. Clear your mind, put your feet up, and watch the Eiffel Tower in the distance as you lose yourself in Senvelle's sonic portraits. With a humor as rich as a freshly baked croissant and a voice warmer than the French Riviera, she's not your typical chanteuse.

Her standout ballad 'You Crash' is an invitation to a dramatic tête-à-tête with raw, unfiltered emotion. Reminiscent of your first wine-soaked heartbreak, it hits you with a wallop of an oh là là!. Senvelle is climbing that Parisian cobblestone hill to stardom, and it won't be long before she's basking in the glow of the independent music scene's city lights.

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Sara Durian is Germany’s undisputed disco queen, electrifying dance floors since the early 2000s with her glitter-drenched beats and futuristic soul. Born in Düsseldorf and raised on a steady diet of Kraftwerk, Donna Summer, and underground Berlin house parties, Sara blends retro grooves with neon-drenched modernity. Her signature sound? A cosmic fusion of French touch, Eurodisco, and synth-heavy pop—unmistakably hers, instantly addictive.

From smoky Berlin clubs to Tokyo fashion runways, Sara has turned every stage into a mirrorball-lit sanctuary. Her voice—sultry, robotic, divine—has been sampled by countless DJs but never duplicated. Whether she’s spinning vinyl or headlining queer festivals across Europe, Sara owns the night like a shimmering phantom of funk.

Still active and more radiant than ever, her legacy is not nostalgia—it’s now. With platinum blond curls and chrome stilettos, she struts through time with a wink and a bass drop.

Her mantra? “All drama, all disco.”

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Elyra Dawn was born in Rotterdam, raised between ferry horns and late-night radio static. Music wasn’t a choice — it was everywhere. Her mother sang quietly while folding laundry, her older brother blasted trance through paper-thin walls, and Elyra? She listened. Carefully. Absorbing melodies like secondhand sunlight.

She spent her teenage years bouncing between school choirs, bedroom recordings, and weekend trips to Amsterdam’s record stores. The moment she first heard Robyn’s Dancing On My Own on a train platform at dusk, something clicked. It wasn’t just about sadness or joy — it was how you could wear both in the same voice. That duality, the push and pull between euphoria and vulnerability, would become Elyra’s signature.

After performing in local clubs and uploading small demos online, she received an unexpected email from Filodyo’s Hakan E — a message that simply said: “You sound like you’ve lived a little. Let’s talk.” What followed was a slow, careful collaboration: late-night file exchanges, voice memos from backstage, moments captured between flights. Elyra didn’t rush it. She never does.

Today, her voice balances two worlds — the sweaty rush of the dancefloor and the quiet ache of a Sunday morning alone. Her hooks stick, her delivery stings, and her presence on stage feels at once intimate and cinematic. Elyra Dawn isn’t here to be loud. She’s here to be heard.

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There’s a certain stillness in Celeste Raye’s voice — the kind that turns crowded rooms quiet and late-night drives cinematic. Born and raised in South London, she grew up mimicking the elegance of old soul singers and the cool detachment of ‘90s club divas. On stage, Celeste doesn’t reach for the spotlight — it finds her.

Her latest release, Velvet Switch, is a slow-burning club anthem soaked in longing. Produced by NOT FM and available exclusively on Filodyo, the track pulses with quiet intensity — as if it’s remembering something you forgot you missed. Celeste’s voice doesn’t cry out. It hovers, suspended above the beat, tracing the shape of absence with each note.

People don’t come to her sets just to dance. They come to feel understood — in dim lights, with their eyes closed, mouthing words they’ve never said out loud. Velvet Switch captures that moment between stillness and surrender, when the music takes over and you stop pretending you’re fine.

Celeste Raye isn’t trying to be timeless. She already is — not because she sounds like someone else, but because she sounds like a feeling you’ve had before, but never named.

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Mark Martian is one of the most elusive figures in the music world, and his mysterious persona has left many fans wondering—could he really be from Mars?

Known for using the alias Martian Mark during his collaborations, this enigmatic producer has somehow managed to evade the spotlight completely. No interviews, no photos, no videos—Mark is practically a ghost. Some say it’s part of his brand, while others speculate wildly. Who knows?

Maybe while Elon Musk dreams of building colonies on Mars, Mark’s already here, quietly making beats after hitching a ride from the Red Planet’s first neighborhood.

Despite the secrecy surrounding him, one thing’s clear: Mark’s music speaks volumes. His deep house tracks pulse with interstellar vibes, his pop productions are out-of-this-world catchy, and his funk grooves are, well, otherworldly.

Whether he’s blending cosmic synths with soulful beats or dropping funk-infused rhythms, his style keeps listeners hooked and guessing. You can hear his work across platforms, but his music truly shines on Filodyo, where you might catch the next great Martian anthem—if he doesn’t beam it up first.

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Born in 1989 in Dayton, Ohio, James Rolly’s life was anything but straightforward. Growing up in a working-class neighborhood, he found himself drawn to music at an early age, learning his first guitar chords from an older cousin who played in local bars. But his teenage years spiraled into turbulence — run-ins with the law, school expulsions, and a revolving door of juvenile detention centers and rehabilitation programs marked his adolescence.

It was during a six-month stay at a rehab facility in Cleveland that James began writing his own songs, using music as a way to process his frustration and loneliness. The stark, confessional style of those early lyrics became the foundation of his artistic voice. He often says the rehab’s battered common-room piano was “the first place I ever told the truth.”

By his mid-20s, James was performing in small clubs across the Midwest, blending gritty Americana storytelling with modern soul and rock influences. His husky voice, commanding presence, and refusal to glamorize his troubled past earned him a loyal following. The shaved head, beard, and head tattoos became part of his unflinching image — a visual reminder of where he’s been and how far he’s come.

Today, James Rolly’s music reflects both the scars and the survival. From intimate acoustic sets to explosive full-band performances, he channels every ounce of his history into a sound that’s raw, magnetic, and unapologetically real.

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Scoot over, Marley, there’s a new reggae sheriff in town. Straight from the sunny sidewalks of Kingston, Jamaica, the Dreadlock Boys are laying down fresh beats in the reggae scene.

This pair of plaited prodigies isn't your grandma's reggae. Combining traditional roots rhythms with just a hint of ska spice and a not-so-subtle sprinkle of dancehall energy, these boys aren't just playing by the book – they’re writing their own. And don't let that laid-back island vibe fool you; these guys are as serious about making you laugh as they are about perfecting the offbeat.

Their standout single "Riddim of Peace" might just be the happiest jam this side of Montego Bay. With its earworm melody and bouncy bassline, it’s as infectious as a belly laugh in a silent library. It's the kind of track that leaves the grumpiest of gurners grinning like a Cheshire cat at an all-you-can-eat fish buffet.

So come, sit, and sway to the soothing sounds of the Dreadlock Boys. They'll be your pint-sized purveyors of peace, your lyrical lifesavers when the going gets tough. After all, joy does come in the morning and the Dreadlock Boys are here to serve it up with a side of reggae, none of those nasty grimaces, thank you very much.

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Romi Sage doesn't chase the spotlight — he teases it. With a smirk behind every lyric and a groove under every syllable, Romi walks the fine line between smooth and subversive. Born in Lisbon and raised between record shops and rooftop parties, he grew up idolizing the effortless cool of Prince, the rhythmic swagger of George Michael, and the punchy charm of early 2000s pop.

His voice slides — not in haste, but in style. It dances over slap basslines and syncopated guitar licks like it’s dodging commitment. Romi doesn’t just sing about love; he dissects it with irony, flirts with it, then leaves it on read. His stage presence is magnetic — not because he demands attention, but because he never asks for it.

Beneath the glam and glitter, though, there’s always a crack. That’s where Romi shines the most — in the clever melancholy, the playful ache, the smile that knows better. His performances are less about perfection, more about pulse.

Plastic Skies & Paper Towns isn’t a love song. It’s a stylish spiral — romantic delusion in disco heels. It's funk with a wink. And with Romi Sage at the mic, it’s impossible to ignore.

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With a sound as vibrant and electric as the city skyline, Emberlight sparkles atop the New York music scene like a well-placed disco ball. This dazzling fem duo is crafting dance-centric eargasms in a city that never sleeps, and admirers say the afterbuzz is real.

Maybe it's the infectious charm of Jade and Sapphire, the synth-crafting mavens behind Emberlight - a happy byproduct of insomnia spent pumping out beats and laughing into the eternity of the early dawn. Or perhaps it's the uncanny ability to paint every corner of your brain with catchy hooks and foot-shaking rhythms, the kind that leaves you humming in the bathroom mirror, hours after the party ends.

"The secret?" Jade says, turning a knob on her mixer, before glancing up with twinkling eyes of mischief, "is pizza slices at 3am. New York's finest greased cardboard cuisine. That's where the magic happens." Sapphire rolls her eyes, fiddling with a tangled synth cable, "It's synesthesia," she corrects, "Our music tastes like a pepperoni pizza."

Their standout track "Afterglow" is proof enough - drenched in sunlight, the dance anthem bounces around your heart like a cute kick-ass kangaroo playing jump rope. It glistens and pops with precisely the kind of joy-sparking energy we need in these seriously grey times. Emberlight crafts electronic music that ignites the dancefloor, and keeps the embers burning long after last call. And isn't that a delicious nightcap to sip on?

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Introducing the globe-trotting dance dynamo, Sebastian, affectionally dubbed the 'Duke of Disco'. Born and raised among the vibrant and pulsating rhythms of Ibiza's legendary nightlife, Sebastian’s music etches smiles on the faces of anyone within earshot.

Sharpening his musical teeth on the sun-baked terraces of Spain's party capital, our indie ingénue soon became a stalwart figure within the local music scene. Known as much for his wicked sense of humor as for his irresistible beats, Sebastian's talent lies not only in songwriting but also in adding an auditory zest that’s like a surprise party for your eardrums.

His magnum opus, "Master Plan (feat Nora)", is the sparkling crown jewel of his dance floor couture. As unpredictable as a bull in a china shop and as spectacular as a shooting star, the track bursts with contagious energy. You’ll find yourself irresistibly entwined in a rhythmical rave, whether you’re shaking it out on the dance floor or boom-bombing your tedious Tuesday.

A maestro of merriment and melody, Sebastian serves up an infectious blend of dance with a generous side of joy. Get ready, disco divas and groove gurus alike, the 'Duke of Disco’ is in town, dishing out fresh altitude to your attitude, one beat at a time.

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Broken Halos Club is a ghost-lit rock outfit born in the after-hours of a burned-out bar in Cincinnati. Fronted by the enigmatic Leo Ryder, whose voice cuts like broken glass wrapped in velvet, the band delivers anthems for the misfits, the dancers, and the late-night wanderers. Mira Knox commands the bass like it’s a weapon of seduction, while Ash Renner turns every drumbeat into a warning shot.

Their breakout single “She Owns the Floor” is not just a song—it’s a defiant war cry for anyone who’s ever reclaimed the night. Exclusive to Filodyo, the track pulses with swagger and sweat, a raw tribute to the power of movement, presence, and fearless self-expression.

Broken Halos Club isn’t chasing charts—they’re chasing ghosts, echoes, and the kind of truth that only comes after midnight. Loud, unapologetic, and strangely beautiful, they’re less a band and more a beautifully damaged memory you can’t shake.

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Wade Hollis doesn’t chase the spotlight — he moves through the world like a shadow at dusk, quietly carving songs out of silence and sand. Born somewhere between the border towns of New Mexico and West Texas, he grew up surrounded by static-filled radio, motel ceilings, and the hum of distant freight trains.

His voice is weathered, like desert wood — raw, honest, and unpolished. Every lyric he writes feels like a road he’s driven a hundred times and still doesn’t fully understand. There’s no big team behind him, no hometown hero narrative. Just a guitar, a gravel road, and the ache of never quite belonging.

Hollis doesn’t stream anywhere else. His music lives exclusively on Filodyo and NOT FM, like postcards from a place most people drive past but never stop to feel. If you’ve ever stared out of a car window at 2 a.m. and felt both free and completely lost — you’ve already heard Wade Hollis, whether you knew it or not.

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Born and raised in Ventura, California, Jett Ralston grew up in a garage that smelled like motor oil, vinyl records, and his father’s hair pomade. While other kids watched cartoons, Jett memorized the Grease soundtrack and tried to mirror Elvis's hip sway in the hallway mirror. His voice—low, smoky, and just a little rough around the edges—carries the DNA of that golden age, but never feels stuck in it.

Jett’s debut single “Through Me” (feat. Dolores Queen) is a cinematic slow-burn: part lost love, part lounge confession. Produced exclusively for Filodyo, the track fuses analog charm with subtle modern edges, pairing his velvet baritone with Dolores Queen’s haunting harmonies. He doesn’t try to be Elvis — but he sings like someone who misses that kind of honesty on stage.

With a sound caught somewhere between a flickering jukebox and a midnight highway, Jett Ralston is not here for nostalgia — he's here to make old souls feel seen again.

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Lina Mour is a French-born vocalist and songwriter blending high-octane Eurodance energy with the emotional weight of soulful pop. Growing up in the suburbs of Lyon, Lina was raised on a steady mix of gospel vocals, ‘90s dance anthems, and gritty French rap. This eclectic influence shaped her bold sonic identity — where throbbing 4/4 beats meet orchestral stabs, and where raw emotion finds its home on the dancefloor.

Her latest single, “Gravity Override,” is a high-energy anthem that collides hip house rap verses with a soaring, mantra-like chorus. It’s a throwback to the golden age of Eurodance, but with modern production and an unapologetic attitude. With pounding kicks, aggressive synths, and trance-tinged melodic layers, the track is built for sweaty club nights, neon-lit workouts, and every moment when reality feels too heavy to carry.

Lina describes the track as “not just about defying gravity — but defying expectation.” Behind the infectious hook lies a personal story of reclaiming freedom, breaking out of everyday repetition, and choosing joy over inertia. In her words: “It’s about walking down the street with a storm in your chest but a beat in your step.”

Beyond music, Lina is quickly becoming a visual icon in her own right. Her streetwear aesthetic, nostalgic references, and empowering live shows are drawing comparisons to the likes of Technotronic and Crystal Waters — yet Lina’s vision is firmly rooted in the present. She isn’t here to recreate the past. She’s here to override it.

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